


351. humanlike

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [52]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Gen, Love that this is a tag. I do. I adore it.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The alien opens its eyes and cheerily says: “Mleerp.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	351. humanlike

Sarah finds the crashed spaceship in the middle of the park, because of course she does. Of course this is her life. She just wanted to finish her shift and go home – but the path she takes leads her through a secluded area, and there’s a bloody _spaceship_ there. Blinking lights and everything.

And in the middle of it: a grey blob. It’s…sloshing, a little bit. Blood? Body fluids? Weird alien technology? Whatever it is Sarah should just leave it, definitely, only she’s over there and before she can stop herself she’s _poking_ it.

Because she’s an idiot.

The blob makes a sound somewhere between _meep_ and _blerp_ and then swallows her hand. Sarah doesn’t even have time to yell _the HELL?_ before the blob around her hand is a hand, and then an arm, and then Sarah is clinging to the hand of her own identical twin lying on the ground. She even has the scrape on her hand from that beer cap earlier today. The fuck. The _fuck_.

The alien – because, Jesus Christ, it’s an alien – opens Sarah’s eyes and cheerily says: “Mleerp.”

“Let go of my hand,” Sarah tells it.

The alien blinks at her passively. It opens its mouth.

“Let go of my hand.”

“No,” Sarah says. “That’s not – _you_ let go.” She tries to wiggle her fingers, but this thing has her hand in a vice grip. The alien wiggles its face around a little bit – blinks its eyes, makes some weird grimacing expressions, puffs out its cheeks. Then it blinks at her, once.

“Oh!” it says. “Let go of your hand.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sarah says.

The alien lets go of her hand. It sits up and does some weird bouncy movements with its arms. “Crash,” it says experimentally. “Ship. Ship _crash_. Ed. My ship. Crashed.”

It looks at Sarah.

“Sure did,” Sarah says, unimpressed.

“H…elp?” it tries. It hasn’t gotten Sarah’s voice quite right – the syllables drag, like it’s pulling her vocal cords through syrup.

“Look,” Sarah tells it. “Welcome to Earth, please don’t blow anythin’ up. Go find a bloody – policeman or somethin’, mate, you really don’t want to make me your Earth representative.”

The alien blinks at her. It looks almost exactly as unimpressed as Sarah does. “Help,” it says again. “ _You_ help. Me. On Earth.”

“No,” Sarah says.

* * *

An hour and a half later she is sitting at her kitchen table and watching an alien eat an entire bag of potato chips. This isn’t an exaggeration: it just – looked at the bag and then put the bag in its mouth. Sarah had to watch her own jaw unhinge. It terrified.

Now the alien sitting there and making _gluk gluk gluk_ noises as the bag passes down its throat. Sarah watches it. She had _tried_ to tell it on the way out of the park that it shouldn’t look exactly like her, but the only conciliation she’d been able to get was it changing its hair. Apparently Shakira is back in, if the extraterrestrial being sitting on her couch is any indication.

“What do you _want_ ,” Sarah says.

The alien gargles at her vaguely. Its throat works a little bit and it burps up a scrap of shiny aluminum chip bag. “I want,” it says. “More of those.”

“No, no,” Sarah says, “like…” she does a vague hand gesture that she hopes means _big picture_.

“Oh,” says the alien. It frowns, shrugs.

“Not…world peace, or some shit?”

“Eeeeh,” says the alien. It wiggles its fingers a little bit, stares at its mimicry of Sarah’s finger joints like it’s the most fascinating thing it’s ever seen. “The words are…mm. Not easy.”

It tilts its head from side to side, and says: “Road…trip?” Then it nods decisively. “Road trip! Yes.”

Sarah doesn’t have time to respond to that before the alien makes an expression of total distress and belches up the empty chip bag. It lands on the table with a soft fluttering sound.

Sarah just looks at it, for a minute, and then she leans forward and lets her head hit the table next to it with a thud.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [183\. rain-drenched](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7837201) by [piggy09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09)




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